


JSS - Aftermath

by DarkeAngelus



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Episode: s06e02 JSS, M/M, Wolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 12:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5164235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkeAngelus/pseuds/DarkeAngelus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Immediately following the Wolves attack on Alexandria, Eric goes in search of Aaron.</p>
            </blockquote>





	JSS - Aftermath

“All I was gonna say is make sure you get her brain.” 

Those were the words Eric heard from Tara as he stood in the doorway of the infirmary, checking his rifle at the same time his dark brown eyes scanned the surroundings. When the brunette joined him, they went out on the deck with Eugene Porter trailing along behind them like a beaten dog. 

“Oh, man. It looks like a war zone,” Tara said in a hushed voice. The air was hazy with gray smoke and eerily quiet. 

Not even Eugene appeared able to add his usual commentary on the matter. His blank face was completely slack in shock. 

From where the trio were standing, they could see that all of the houses had been ransacked. There were dead bodies littering the streets and lawns as far as their shocked eyes could track. Some were people Eric recognized, but by no means were they all of them. Filthy strangers with machetes and axes were among the dead. Pulling his pistol from its holster, he gave it to Tara while he readied his rifle. “I’m going to look for Aaron. You can come with me or go check on your own people.” 

“You and Aaron _are_ our people.” Tara reminded him and that got them going as a unit. 

After the first three or four people, Eric gave up checking for a pulse. Some of the bodies they came across were hacked to pieces for no clear reason. Tara was reminded of how the Governor had decapitated Maggie’s father. Eric thought of all of the innocents he’d seen in Liberia and Mali who had been butchered through senseless civil war. Eugene ... he just puked. It came out of him without warning in a sudden super-powered jet. Fortunately, it landed all over the body of an attacker and not a citizen. 

“Sorry,” he said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. It looked like he was close to tears. Eric figured he was embarrassed for doing it in front of Tara who everybody knew he was infatuated with. 

“Don’t be. Good aim,” Eric said briefly, moving on. It was hard to be stealthy while wearing a walking cast. His left ankle was throbbing away in tune with his racing pulse. That pain was put aside in favour of a far more pressing need to find Aaron. If he saw a body wearing a blue hooded jacket ... His mind skittered away from the thought, refusing to even consider the possibility. 

Tara came to an Alexandrian who had been slashed across the stomach and unsheathed her knife to stab him through the ear to prevent reanimation. She hesitated when she lifted the head. “Someone already got this one in the brain.” 

“Same here,” Eric said, looking at one of the assailants who was lying beside the other body. There were two bullet wounds marked across his chest. It indicated a smaller calibre than the weapons Rick’s group preferred and he thought it might be from Aaron’s .38. Hunkered down in the infirmary, they had heard a lot of gunfire going on around them. Eric’s keen ears listened for the smaller pop of Aaron’s revolver and heard it fire more times than he would have liked. The altruistic scout had been forced into a situation where he’d had to kill before and it had taken something vital from him that had yet to return. This- This was a complete massacre. 

“Carol?” He heard Tara whisper from beside him. They saw the older woman sitting on the porch of the house she shared with the majority of her group. She was wearing clothes that were a far cry from the docile housewife image she had fooled the Alexandrians into believing she was. For some reason she had pulled on a filthy jacket and scarf and there was the remains of a bloody “W” on her forehead. In her left hand was a cigarette and she was staring down at it in what looked like a mild state of shock. 

“Carol!” Tara said in a stronger voice coming up along side of her. She laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” 

Tears had left streaks of grime down her pale cheeks. She blinked hard and looked up and tried to offer them a strained smile. “We did it,” she said in a hoarse voice. “They’re gone. Or dead.” 

“Who were they?” 

“I think they’re the ones Morgan told us about. The ones who trapped Daryl and Aaron.” 

“The Wolves.” Eric said in a low, resentful tone. Ever since that near-death experience, Aaron had become an insomniac and that meant both of them were afflicted with acute sleep deprivation. There was no such thing as ‘suffering alone’ in their relationship. 

Behind her, Carl appeared at the door holding his assault weapon. He slowly opened the door. “Is it over?” 

“I think so. Is Judith alright?” Tara asked him. 

“She slept through the whole thing. They never got in. One tried.” He nodded at the body lying across the street, but didn’t say anything more. 

“It’s over,” Carol said in a stronger voice. “Whatever it is they tried to do; kill us all, rob us, I don’t know. They didn’t succeed. We’re still here.” 

 _Some of us are,_ Eric thought sadly. “Carol, have you seen Aaron?” 

“Last I saw, he was paired up with Rosita. That was when it first started.” She trained that sad smile on his worried face. “He came through for us.” 

It was on his lips but he didn’t say it: _As if you ever had any doubts_. He turned around to resume his search. When he saw Tara coming with him he shook his head. “You stay here.” 

“But-“ 

“I can take care of myself. Don’t worry.” He left because he didn’t want to waste anymore time arguing. Most importantly, his sense of worry had intensified into outright terror. There were too many bodies scattered around; of both his people and those goddamned Wolves. Was it possible that only a small handful of people could have repelled this savage attack without any losses? Aaron was well-accustomed to confrontation, but not actual battle. He wasn’t prepared for combat the way that Rick’s group of hardened survivors were. If anyone would have been injured or-or _worse_ - 

Again, his brain refused to process that thought. 

It was almost surreal when he rounded the corner and saw Aaron sitting on the ground in front of the stairs to the Monroe compound. He was completely still with his head bowed and all Eric saw was the blood. His entire body was coated with it. 

The paralysis lasted for all of two seconds before Eric forgot about his foot and sprinted the rest of the distance, screaming: _“Aaron!”_ He landed hard on his knees in front of the unresponsive scout. “Oh my god. Oh god. Are you hurt? Is everything alright?” He pulled open Aaron’s coat to look for knife slashes or bullet wounds and then ran his hand along the man’s face. All of the blood appeared to be second-hand. As impossible as it was to believe, he didn’t appear to have a mark on him. He just seemed to be in a state of complete shock. 

Eric grabbed his shoulders and gave them one hard shake. “Aaron! Talk to me!” In a softer voice, he said, “It’s all over. Everything’s going to be okay now.” 

Aaron made a palsied movement that vaguely resembled a shake of the head. He whispered something, but Eric couldn’t make it out. “What was that? What did you say?” 

“I killed them,” Aaron said in a low voice, finally raising his eyes. They were filled with tears. “Our people. The ones we found and others who came. I got them killed.” 

“You’re not making any sense. What are you talking about?” 

Cradled in his blood-soaked hands, Aaron thrust over the envelope he’d been holding. Eric recognized it immediately along with the black and white pictures that spilled out onto the ground. Images of Alexandria: The wall, the gate, the solar-grid, the houses, and a few new ones that had people in them. Then he noticed the distinctive canvas backpack. He picked it up and ran his fingers along the fabric as if doubting it was real. “You told me you lost this.” 

Aaron managed to nod in response. His wide eyes tracked over to the body of the scruffy man lying a few feet away from them. “He had it. They found it at Del Arno, Eric. They found those damn pictures and it led them straight to our doorstep. What happened here... I- Oh Christ, it’s all my fault!” His face crumpled and he leaned forward and buried his face into his boyfriend’s shoulder and started crying. Not a gentle, silent bout of weeping that Eric was accustomed to dealing with on those very rare times when Aaron let himself feel that low. These were soul-numbing, heart-crunching sobs that wracked his entire body. All Eric could do was hold him tight and let this emotion play itself out. Part of it, probably most of it, was shock – pure and simple. But it wasn’t all of it. Not by a long shot. 

Eric’s eyes dropped to the knife that was lying beside them. “You were the one who went around and spiked the brains,” he realized. “You made sure we wouldn’t be dealing with roamers after all this.” 

He felt Aaron’s breath falter as he tried to compose a response. Eric could feel his entire body shuddering like a spring about to snap. “Didn’t mind spiking those damn Wolves, buh-but the people I knew. That _we_ knew. B-Bob and Natalie. Tyler. Kent. V-Vikki-” Words failed him and he just held onto his boyfriend and wept his tears of loss and exhaustion. 

After a few more minutes, Eric gently pushed him back and scrubbed the tear trails away with his thumbs. He kissed him and whispered, “I was so scared you’d gotten hurt. Or-or worse.” His voice hoarsened. “God, I love you so much.” He ran a free hand through that curly hair and felt how tacky it was with drying blood. “Do you think you can walk? We need to get home.” 

Managing a nod, Aaron gripped the iron railing beside him and, by sheer physical effort, pulled himself up to his feet. As he leaned against it to marshal his strength, Eric stuffed the scattered pictures and envelope into the backpack and draped it over his left shoulder. He wrapped his free arm around Aaron’s waist. “Come on, hon. It’s not far. We can-“ 

Aaron gripped the railing tighter. The dazed fugue was starting to leave his face. “No. I have to stay here and wait for Deanna. She needs to hear what I did.” 

A flash of anger crossed Eric’s face, bringing sharp color to his pale cheeks. He managed to submerge the emotion, barely. “Right now, you’re in no condition to talk and she’ll be in no state to listen. Give it a few hours at least, okay? You need to wash up and get some rest.” 

Aaron looked down at his hands, stained crimson from the blood of both friend and enemy. He imagined the rest of him looked little better. “I... Okay. A couple of hours,” he said in surrender. 

With Eric’s help they made it around the corner and a short distance up the road to where their house was located on the right-hand side. The front door was wide open. 

“Sonsabitches,” Eric swore, pulling the rifle up to his shoulder and fingering the safety latch to the off position. Beside him, Aaron had pulled out his .38 but his hands were shaking so badly that he had trouble sliding out the cylinder to check his ammunition. After he’d managed the act he took a few deep breaths to steady himself and then passed his boyfriend a silent nod indicating that he was ready. 

They approached the house as a team; each protecting the other’s back. It’d been weeks since Eric’s injury, but they’d perfected their house sweeping techniques after two years of trial and error and had it down to a fine art. Eric went to the doorway and crouched low, aiming inside of the house to the right. Aaron went to the left. Once inside, he closed the door and locked it and, operating like a single, silent being, they went to work. 

They did their rounds of each room, being extremely thorough. The Wolves had clearly left their mark. They sliced up the furniture and cushions with their knives, overturned the armoire and bookcases, and kicked holes in the walls. The floor was scattered with broken glass and bric-a-brac and antique signs and license plates had been knocked down and scattered around. It wasn’t clear if anything had been stolen but the large LCD television above the fireplace was down and leaning next to the door. 

Neither man dwelled on the state of their home as they stayed on course and carefully checked every room out until they were upstairs. This area appeared untouched but the pair didn’t relax until they’d investigated every single closet and storage area. When they were standing next to the master bathroom, Eric wrapped an arm around Aaron’s neck and kissed his cheek. “Go get cleaned up. I’m going back downstairs and check what those sick bastards did.” 

“Be careful,” Aaron said. He didn’t let his eyes waver until he saw the top of his boyfriend’s head disappear from view down the stairs. Then he went to the sink and considered his reflection. Who he saw looking back at him was a total stranger. 

He scrubbed his hands clean until they started to hurt and dipped his head beneath the running faucet. The beige towel he used to scrub his hair and face clean came away filthy. He looked down at it and saw his vision start to dim at the edges. Staggering backwards, his back collided with the shower stall and he slid to the floor in a boneless heap, taking his face in his hands. He wasn’t sure what happened next; whether he cried again, passed out, or succumbed to a shocked doze, but it wasn’t until he smelled smoke that his head snapped up and it was clear that some time had passed. The beam of sunlight on the floor had shifted several inches to the right. 

“Eric?” He climbed slowly to his feet and looked out of the bathroom window to the back yard. Below him, he made out Eric’s distinct figure standing in front of the barbeque. Something on the grill was on fire. 

It dawned on Aaron what that ‘something’ was. By the time he pelted down the stairs and ran out of the back door, his back pack was a charred, unrecognized bundle of ashes. 

 _“Why did you do that?!”_ He howled in dismay. He actually made an attempt to try and get at the remains but Eric, his face flushed and angry, pushed him back. 

"Why?" Eric glared at him. "Do I really need to say it? I did this to prevent you from going and doing something stupid. Like telling Deanna you're to blame for what happened here." 

"But I am!" 

"Bullshit! Those pictures didn't have directions written on them. You were careful about that. No definable landmarks, no community name. They were just old-looking black and white pictures that could have come from _anywhere_. So those assholes found your back pack. So what? It didn't have a sewn-in address. It doesn't prove that's what brought them here. How do you know they didn't follow Heath and his crew back from their run? Maybe they saw one of those stupid signs along the road. Hell, they could have been checking us out for weeks!" 

Swallowing, the harried scout stared at the burning remains for a long, considering moment and then said, "The fact you're burning it... That tells me you believe the same thing I do." 

It was during rare stand-offs like this that Eric cursed how well they truly knew each other. Changing tactics, he asked, "How many people did those pictures help bring back here?" 

"Probably the same number that they got killed," Aaron responded in a sad, defeated voice. "Two years of hard work undone in less than an hour. I might as well have never been here at all." 

"And what about the walls? You helped Reg and his family put them up until more people arrived. Getting our armoury and supplies organized? That was your NGO training kicking in. Alexandria exists because of _you_." 

"Not just me. You were right there beside me through all of that, too." 

"I didn't put my heart and soul into this place as much as you did. Not anywhere close. What we have here isn't because of Deanna and her leadership. It's because of your sacrifice. You convinced people to come here and you made them believe in this place." He saw the lingering doubt on his boyfriend's face and tried to hammer the point home: "You just worked alongside Rick's group to prevent this Wolf attack be a success. Think about that for a minute. Those pictures didn't damn us, Aaron. They helped saved us!" 

They could go around and round for hours on the topic and never come to a resolution. Aaron looked down at the grass and rubbed his forehead as if it ached, trying to come up with a rebuttal the same way he attempted negotiations; think a few moves ahead, anticipate a counter, be ready for a blindside with a change of topic. Always keep the other party talking. Things turned ugly fast when conversation lapsed and silence crept in. This time he was the silent one and he could sense Eric's growing desperation. 

"Please," Eric pleaded. "Don't throw away everything you've done here on some suspicion." He cleared the distance between them and held Aaron by the shoulders, forcing him to make eye contact. In a softer voice, he said, "Aaron, you didn't do anything wrong." 

All Aaron could offer was a despondent shake of the head and Eric pulled him close into an embrace. They stood like that for an unknown length of time before there was a new sound that pierced the surreal quiet like a pistol shot. 

Rick's voice from outside: _"Open the gate!"_

 

* * *

 


End file.
